Solitary Habits

Poe was not a typical young man. It wasn't that he was outlandish in any obvious way. In fact, with his short dark hair and lean physique, he looked both reasonably attractive and intelligent. Attending classes at the local downtown college, his only vice, on casual observation, was a tendency towards dark clothing and social isolation.

When he wasn't taking his college lectures, he worked part time for a local book store, and then spent his evenings writing. Not only his school papers, which he tried to take care of during the day, but fiction and poetry as well.

The coffee house was where Poe did most his writing, or at least the initial rough versions. Bringing a hard bound sketch book, he would sit with a bowl sized cup of brew and scribble down ideas and short poems. There was something in this activity that felt artistically right to him. Perhaps it was some unstated kinship with the beat generation of the past. He definitely felt out of step with the rest of the modern world. Here, with the old wooden tables and the sounds of bebop jazz, he felt much more comfortable, like it was his own personal space.

On this particular evening, this fateful night, he happened to spot a young woman sitting on her own. In many respects, she struck him as a mirror image of himself. Like he, she was clad in black, with short glossy dark hair and thin glasses. Viewing her from the side, his eyes roamed from her elegant profile, down her slender torso to her black nylon sheathed legs.

Under other circumstances, or at least with a greater dose of courage, he might have approached her table and introduced himself. Instead, he remained as he was, watching her from the corner of his eye. He saw her raise the cup to her soft, red lips. He observed the pale skin of her bare arms, and the well defined shape of her pointed breasts beneath her top. Her legs were crossed, her skirt draped in a single fold high on her thighs. Her fingernails were long and painted the same bright red as her lips.

This unnamed siren in black gradually captivated all his attention. His pen tapped an absent rhythm against his sketchbook as his imagination turned from contemplation of blank verse to real flesh. It had been some time since he'd lain in bed with a girl. The carnal craving for that contact lay like a heavy stone deep in his gut. It was her. She'd inflamed his dormant senses.

He could imagine doing anything and everything with her. He would kneel at her feet, removing those heels and running his hands along the length of her calves and past her knees. His penis engorged within the confines of his briefs as his mind turned to thoughts of her own organ of progeneration. Sliding off those black hose and underwear, he would examine every inch of her dark haired cunt. He could easily picture the look on her face as he exposed the bright pink bud of her clitoris and brushed it hard with this tongue.

As he created the fantasy of this woman's arousal, his own physical excitement grew to rampant proportions in the real world. His erection strained hard against the zip of his pants. Unconsciously, Poe dropped the edge of his thick sketchbook onto his lap, pressing down to increase the erotic pressure against his organ.

Unknown and unseen by the object of his ardor, the woman continued to sit quietly at her table, sipping her herbal tea. In Poe's mind, she was already writhing on the floor, her pale body naked and sweating from the ordeal of his oral pleasuring. At the last, he would crawl over her, now naked as well, and consummate the act by plunging his prick into her loose and soaking wet cunt. Those long arms would curl around his back, her legs rising in response to the force of their desperate intercourse.

In the middle of this almost literal out-of-body experience, his was entirely consumed by this fantasy. He was unaware of how close he had brought himself to actual climax. His tip of his penis had become coated by pre-cum fluid, smeared against the insides of his briefs. His heart was racing, and his muscles tensed all over.

Blinking in confusion, Poe swallowed hard, beating down the rush of adrenalin that threatened to overwhelm him. His moment of selfish passion had nearly become a public embarrassment. He closed his eyes, waiting for the tense throbbing in his penis to subside, to finally drain away into its usual soft state. He could feel the cool damp on his sensitive glans, the warning sign that had roused him from his daydream and kept him from finally exploding all over himself. Blushing, Poe hurried out of the shop was soon as he was comfortably able to do so. He gave his fantasy lover a quick glance, but she was apparently lost in a world of her own as well.

When Poe returned to his apartment, he lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The recent and vivid memory of what happened at the coffee house returned to him. Not only what that wonderful, unknown girl looked like, and what he'd imagined doing with her. That was certainly erotic enough. But what caused him to pause was how far he'd gone into that fantasy while sitting in his chair. Never had he allowed himself to come so close to the edge of orgasm in public circumstances. It seemed the longer he went without a girlfriend, the more intense his fantasies became. Now that primal urge had trespassed beyond the privacy of his bedroom. It was, on one level, appalling. At the same time, it was also extremely exciting. If he'd been able to safely stroke himself over the edge in that coffee shop, he would have.

The idea, once implanted, grew like a cancer. Public fantasy and orgasm. The freedom of self satisfaction in any circumstance. He'd already tasted the perverse pleasure of that activity, at least to a certain extent. The only problem to be solved was the inevitable mess that would result. And yet, wasn't the solution patently clear? Reaching over to the bed stand, he removed a 3-pack of lubricated condoms. They'd been there for some time.

How hard would it be? To simply slip one on before leaving for the night, or even the day? To be able to complete the act of mental masturbation without fear of discovery? The very thought was so wanton and liberating that his erection returned anew. Naturally reaching for his penis, he massaged the flesh in a familiar, gentle manner. For the first time, it wasn't thoughts of sex that fueled his masturbation, but that act of self abuse in and of itself. He imagined all the ways he could secretly stroke himself off, of all the women who would become unsuspecting subjects for his ardor.

It was a perverse and dangerous road to travel, and that knowledge excited him too. He didn't allow himself to come. Lying alone in bed, his cock hot and tense in his hand, he realized that his resolve would melt away in the moments after his orgasm. He wanted to savor this. His next orgasm would not come this way, but rather, within his trousers as he mentally raped a worthy passer by.

He did not sleep easily that night. His erection waxed and waned as he ruminated on his plan. He continued to milk pre-cum onto his fingers until he was sure he would have none left. His body craved climax, but he relented, smiling at his will power to resist. His dreams, when they came, were abstract and fleeting.

* * *

In the morning, Poe showered as usual, preparing for the days lectures. He hadn't forgotten his resolve though, not at all. Already engorged, he rolled the slippery sheath of thin rubber over his organ before putting on his clothes. He was still erect as he stepped outside, but that finally went down as he made his way towards the campus. One thing he'd decided was not to exploit this new freedom too soon.

It was during the second lecture in the afternoon when inspiration took hold. Seated near the back row, he had a wide and expansive view of all the students below him. He only personally knew a few of them. He didn't typically pay them a great deal of attention, instead listening to the professor and making copious notations. Today, distracted as he was, he eyes alighted on a fellow student seated not too far from his right, one row down. She had long, curly blonde hair that reached past her shoulders. From this angle, it was hard to see her face clearly, but she did seem very pretty. What drew his attention were her stockinged feet, crossed at the ankles underneath her chair. She had apparently taken off her shoes to make herself more comfortable. She had very cute feet, outlined through the fabric of her tan nylon pantyhose.

Always, it starts with the legs, Poe realized. Must be a personal kink. Not the breasts, but the legs; those elegant sleek limbs that led the way to the most glorious organ of all. What kind of pubic thatch must such a girl have with riotous hair like that? What a joy to spread those crisp curly hairs aside to expose the soft petals of her labia, and the delicate pink flesh inside.

By the time these thoughts filtered through his mind, Poe became aware that he was fiercely erect. He covertly moved a hand to his lap, pressing down. He could feel the band of rolled rubber at the base of his prick which assured him the condom had remained firmly in place. He shifted his legs so that the length of his prick remained pressed between his closed thighs, offering a means of stimulation more subtle than his hand would have been.

His attention returned to the nearby blonde. She had a great sense of fashion, if a little conventional. She wore a crisp white blouse and a flowing, flower patterned skirt. The fabric looked light and sheer, and would probably fall easily from her hips once he'd unbuttoned or unzipped it from behind. On the other hand, it would be fun to keep her dressed, and simply turn up that skirt past her waist to expose her hose and panties. He'd bet anything her underwear were plain white cotton; she looked like that sort of girl. Pure, uncomplicated -corruptible. No doubt the idea of remaining fully clad during sex would be shocking to her. He could tear a hole through her nylons at the crotch in order to access her snatch. The gusset of her panties moved aside, he could molest her tender cunt at his complete and utter leisure.

Straining against his briefs, his turgid erection came free of his thighs, creating an obvious bulge in his trousers. Dropping a hand back to his lap, he gave himself a firm squeeze. With all eyes fixed forward, and a good deal of distance between himself and the front of the class, there was little danger of his activity being discovered. Still, he felt intensely nervous and jittery. Determined not to psych himself out, Poe re-settled his breathing and continued to watch the object of his fantasy.

Viewing her from this oblique angle, it made him consider the contours of her back, and what it would be like to take her from behind. It was easy to picture her on all fours, skirt draped across her back, her hindquarters lifted in the air. He wouldn't plunge in right away, of course. No, first he would pry into the opening of her vagina, spreading the walls apart with two stiff fingers. Holding her waist tight, he would force as many digits as possible into that soft moistness, expanding her from the inside. She would be so loose in there that, by the time he finally forced his prick within, there would barely be any pressure at all. He could fuck her for a very long time like that, her clothes disordered but still in place just as she began. He would hold onto the back of her neck with one hand; the same he had used in her pussy, still carrying the pungent scent of her sex.

Having to sit still in his chair while his heart raced with the flush of sexual adrenalin was a perverse torture. Although he kept a placid face, his hands were clenched on the surface of the flip-top desk. Thankfully, there was at least a chair's worth of space between himself and the nearest student. Stealing a hand back down to his lap, he felt for the head of his cock through his pants. He could feel his glans slide against the rubber, the insides smeared with his own seeping lubricant. His balls were now tight to his body, and he clenched his buttocks to increase the tension.

In his mind's eye, the girl he was fucking had lost some of her strength, arms collapsed to her sides. Her eyes half closed, she was now simply a vessel for his pent up ardor. The fingers of his hand rhythmically clasped over his organ, bringing physical stimulation to match his mental one. His legs stiffened, and his jaw went tight. Having brought the girl down to the ground, he lay fully on top of her, lunging in short deep strokes inside her undefendable cunt. The violence of his fantasy did not concern him at all. This closer he came to orgasm, the more intense he needed the fantasy to be.

Holding his breath, his covert rubbing centered now almost entirely on his glans, harder and faster now, in tight circles. Anyone who glanced over would only think he was scratching himself. In fact, he was cresting on the verge of climax, his head swimming with the details of his fantasy and his own rampant arousal. There was virtually no way of stopping, he was so far gone. His eyes closed, and his teeth clenched tight. His fantasy melted away as he marveled at the rush of sensation, realizing that within mere moments he would be experiencing his first public orgasm. That perverse thought was the final trigger. His hand pressed hard against his lap, he felt every pulse as semen coursed through the length of his penis. He wanted to give the loudest grunt of his life, but instead continued to hold his breath for an insane amount of time as he rode the orgasm, making him even more light headed.

He had only minutes to regain his wits before the end of class. He immediately went to the bathroom and locked himself into a stall. Undoing his pants, he looked down with satisfaction at the hanging teat of the condom, well filled with his seed. His cock had become soft, but the rubber still managed to cling. This was worthy to note for the future, when a trip to the privacy of a bathroom stall wouldn't be possible. Peeling off the rubber, he dumped it into the toilet and quickly wiped off his prick before resuming the rest of the day. Anyone seeing the contented glow on his face would probably have assumed the young man had gotten very lucky. In a way, they would be right.

* * *

Poe's next foray into his perversity took place a couple of days later. Sated by his first experience, he didn't feel the immediate need to repeat it right away . He convinced himself it was all much more about being spontaneous and free rather than being deliberately perverted. So, despite rolling on a condom each morning, his lectures went by as smoothly as they had in the past. There were no opportunities presented at the coffee house either.

It was while riding the subway after class that, without intent, he found himself in the thrall of another fantasy. She was seated across from him, a few seats over towards his left. She was of obvious Asian descent, with long thick black hair and wonderful dark brown eyes. She was perhaps close to thirty years old, and her impeccable jacket and skirt suggested she was a downtown office worker, probably for a Bay Street firm. That well tailored skirt was very short, revealing a great deal of her skinny, naturally tanned legs.

Such a woman one would expect to sit with a straight back and primly scissored legs. Instead, perhaps due to the exhaustion of a full work day, she slouched with one arm up on the seat, knees well apart. Stealing a look, he could see the inside of her right thigh nearly to her panties.

She was staring idly out the window, oblivious to Poe's scrutiny. There were very few others riding in this train car, and the slow rise of his erection informed him of the chance being presented. He fought the idea back. There was every chance that she could leave at the next stop, or someone else might get on and end up sitting right beside him. So, best not to force the issue.

Instead, he just let his gaze rest lightly on this woman's casually spread legs, his cock naturally hardening at the sight. He'd never been with an Asian girl before, had never had the chance. They definitely had a unique and special beauty, and this one here was no exception. That which is different from one's self will always seem exotic and intriguing, he reflected. No doubt some natural impulse towards genetic diversity.

One thing he knew for certain that was different about Asian women were their straight pubic hairs. Looking at the inviting gap between this woman's thighs, it was impossible not to consider this. How much easier would the act of cunnilingus be with all those smooth, fine straight hairs instead of crinkly, curly ones? And what shade would the outer lips of her labia be? Poe glanced up at the unconcerned, bored face of the office lady. What would it take to turn such an expression into one of ecstatic joy? After a hard day's work, wouldn't she welcome the relaxation and distraction that a good long oral teasing would bring? Slouched back just as she was, she would look down at him with that same bored expression, waiting for him to get her juices flowing.

He would be her servant, concerned and consumed with her pleasure over his own. He would pull back that skirt and bury his face in the open gap between her thighs. He would caress the smooth skin of her naked legs, pushing up her thighs to greater expose her waiting cunt. At first, she would show no sign of concern at all, probably not even looking down at him. But after a short time, the action of his sucking lips and his wet, scraping tongue on her sensitive organ would have her vagina wet and seeping. Her breathing would quicken, and that subtle frown would be replaced with a vacant expression of an entirely different kind.

Without the aid of direct stimulation, his own prick had grown into hard and tense erection. Hardly conscious of the action, he raised and clenched his buttocks in rhythmic intervals, each strain gradually raising the level of his arousal. Barely moving a visible inch, he was miming the muscular movements of intercourse.

In his imagination, the Asian goddess had slumped onto her back, her narrow eyes closed tight as her excitement mounted. The fingers of one hand were employed in probing the depths of her cunt, while he continued the effort on her clit with his tireless tongue. He yearned to fill that channel with his cock, but he would have to wait until his mistress had tasted her pleasure first. In the surreal melding of fantasy and physical sensation, his sexual arousal became the real analogue for hers. Barely aware of the fact, the tip of his penis began oozing it's clear trail of pre-cum, paving the way for the expected ejaculation of his seed.

Hands fixed to his sides, Poe's only physical stimulation was derived from the straining of his interior muscles. He employed that typically unused and untrained set of reactions that allowed one to twitch or move one's penis, only noticeable when in full erection. His entire being burned for more intense contact, for the tight grip of his hands, or the unseen sanctuary of a vagina, such as the one he was fingering in his imagination. His vision turned soft at the edges, unfocused. Anyone listening to his breathing would have imagine him to be in some distress, perhaps even in real pain. It felt like every sensory organ of his body had become secondary to the tension and heat of his trapped penis.

Poe was teetering on a virtual cliff, having never come so close to the point of climax without ever actually touching himself. His right hand shot forward to grip the nearby steel pole, clenching it tightly between his fingers. Taking a single deep breath, he strained, arching himself so that his rear came up off the seat. He hovered like that for a while, in a rictus not unlike death, the object of his intense desire only a few scant meters away. Then it happened. He thought he could feel the semen literally travel from up his testes, around the loop and into his prostate. His cock suddenly reared up as if of it's own accord, and the orgasmic trigger sent this semen pumping through and into the tip of the condom.